The Bride's Necklace Part 31

Tory couldn't help thinking of the last time she and Cord had been to Tarrington Park, the night he had hauled her into the closet and made pa.s.sionate love to her. What would happen, she wondered, if she tried that tactic in reverse?

She might have had the nerve to try if Cord were close at hand, but at the moment he stood next to the punch bowl speaking to his friend, the duke. She started to join them when she spotted her stepfather walking toward her. She didn't miss the smug smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

"Well, Victoria...How long has it been?"

A little shiver went through her. Not long enough, she thought. Not nearly long enough. She stiffened her spine. "Good evening, my lord. I hadn't heard you were in London."

"Actually, I am here on business." He toyed with the gla.s.s of champagne in his long-boned hand. "You see, I've had an offer for the purchase of Windmere."

Her stomach instantly tightened. "Someone wishes to buy Windmere?"

"That is correct. I intend to finalize the transfer some time next week."

Her head spun. "You...you can't possibly do that. Windmere has been in my mother's family for three hundred years. You can't just sell it!"

Now she understood why he had looked so smug. He knew how much the place meant to her, the memories it held, knew that selling it would be like a dagger in the heart. "Who has offered to buy it?"

"I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say. I hear the new owner intends to do extensive remodeling, though, perhaps turn it into some sort of an inn."

The knot in her stomach grew almost painful. It was probably a lie. He knew how much it would disturb her, therefore it was just the sort of thing the baron would say. Still, it might well be the truth.

"If you want the place so badly, perhaps you can convince your husband to buy it for you. The price would have to be a great deal higher, of course, perhaps double-no, let's say triple the existing price-but I'm sure we could come to some sort of agreement."

The baron hated Cord nearly as much as he hated her. He would extract every farthing he could get. Cord might agree to the purchase, but Tory refused to ask him.

She had come to him penniless when he had wanted a marriage that would increase his family's wealth. He had paid the extravagant price Lord Harwood had demanded for the necklace she and Claire had stolen, then bought it and given it to her as a gift. Lately he had lavished her with expensive presents.

She refused to ask him for more.

If the cost was losing Windmere, so be it.

"I believe I see your husband coming. Perhaps I should mention the offer to him."

"No," she said firmly. "We are not interested in buying the house." But she was extremely interested in getting inside. Windmere posed the last chance of finding her mother's journal. If the new owners began to tear the place apart, she might never find it.

She studied the baron's razor-thin face, the smug smile still on his lips. The man had murdered her father. Tory was sure of it. She wanted nothing so much as to make Miles Whiting pay.

The baron made a timely departure as her husband drew near. Cord was frowning by the time he reached her.

"What did that devil, Harwood, want?"

"He was just being obnoxious, a knack that comes to him quite readily."

She gazed up at her husband, who looked impossibly handsome in his dark evening clothes. His shoulders were so very broad, and she knew exactly the hardness of the muscles across his chest. She wanted him to kiss her right there in the ballroom, wanted him to drag her off to the closet and shove up her skirts, as he had done before.

He must have read her thoughts for his eyes darkened to burnished gold. She thought that if she touched him, she would find him heavily aroused.

Then his careful control slipped back into place and the moment was lost.

Tory flicked a glance across the dance floor to where the baron stood speaking to a group of his friends, and ignored a faint shiver.

"If you don't mind, now that Harwood is arrived, I would like to go home."

Cord followed her gaze and nodded. "Come. We'll collect your wrap and summon the carriage."

Protective as always, he didn't stray from her side again, but when they got home, he retired to his room, leaving her alone. Instead of a restful night's sleep, she had erotic dreams of Cord and disturbing dreams of Windmere.

The afternoon of the following day, Grace showed up at the town house. Teary-eyed and shaken, she let Tory lead her into the Blue Room and waited while Timmons closed the sliding doors.

"For heaven's sake, Grace, what is it? You're pale as a ghost."

Grace wet her trembling lips. "My father-I've found out who he is."

"Come, you had better sit down. Shall I ring for tea? You look as if you could use a bit of a bracer."

Grace shook head. "I can't stay long. I wanted to show you these."

For the first time, Tory noticed the small wooden box tucked under Grace's arm. "What is it?"

"Letters. Written to me by my father."

"Good heavens, how on earth did you get them?"

"I finally found the courage to speak to my mother. At first she was upset that I had discovered her secret, but I told her what had happened was in the past. I simply wanted to know who my real father was."

"And?" Tory prompted.

"She cried and begged me to forgive her and then she went and got the letters. She said she had received one each year since the day I was born. She said that she should have given me the letters as soon as I was old enough to know the truth, but she didn't want to cause any more trouble with her husband."

"You mean Dr. Chastain."

"Yes. Mother said he has never been able to accept me as his daughter. She was the one who had been unfaithful, but he took it out on me."

Tory looked down at the small, carved wooden box in Grace's lap. "Have you read them?"

"Yes."

"What did your father say?"

Her hand stroked lovingly over the box. "Mostly he said that if he could, he would raise me as his own. He said that if I ever got into trouble, I should go to his aunt, a woman named Matilda Crenshaw. She's the widow of Baron Humphrey. He said that she knew all about me."

Tears welled in Grace's eyes and she fumbled for a handkerchief, dragged it out of her reticule. "As I grew older, my father said he wanted to meet me. I wrote to him, Tory. I asked if he still wanted to see me and he wrote and said he did. I am meeting him tomorrow night."

Tory reached over and took hold of Grace's hand. "Are you certain, Grace? Are you sure that is what you want?"

"More than anything. My father is a man of some prominence in the government. He is married, with children of his own, but I have vowed to keep his secret. They will never know anything about me."

She sniffed into the hankie. "He never forgot me, Tory. Not in all of these years."

"I'm happy for you, Grace. I know how much you've always wanted a father who loved you."

Grace smiled through her tears. "I have to go. I ordered a new gown for our meeting and I am due for the final fitting." Grace leaned down and hugged her. "I'll tell you all about it after I see him."

Tory nodded and rose to her feet. "Good luck, darling."

Grace swept out of the room with her usual vibrancy, and Tory could almost feel the energy left in her wake. Perhaps it was Grace's departure that made the room seem suddenly cold. Whatever it was, her head began to spin and her stomach started to roll.

The nausea worsened. Hurrying upstairs, Tory reached her bedchamber just in time to empty the contents of her stomach into the chamber pot. G.o.d's breath, the same sickness had plagued her yesterday and the day before.

"Milady?" Emma stood in the doorway. "Are ye ill again today?"

She fought down another wave of nausea. "I can't imagine what is wrong with me."

Emma poured water into the porcelain basin, dampened a cloth and handed it to her. "When was yer last menses, milady?"

"I'm not sure." She used the cloth to wash her face. "It must have been some weeks back-" She broke off as she realized the direction of Emma's thoughts. "Dear Lord, you don't think that I...that I might be with child?"

"You have been married some months, milady. And your husband is a most virile man."

Sweet G.o.d, she was going to have Cord's baby! A surge of exhilaration collided with a sharp stab of fear. Cord still believed she had made love with Julian Fox. Which meant there was a very good chance he would think that the child was not his.

The notion made her stomach roll again and perspiration broke out on her forehead.

"Perhaps ye ought ta sit down, milady."

She sank down on the padded bench in front of her dresser, frantically trying to think. She would have to take the chance and write to Julian, beg him to speak to Cord. She would talk to her sister, beseech Lord Percy. Maybe together they could convince her husband that she had never been unfaithful.

"What is it, milady? Are ye not happy about the babe?"

Tory looked up at Emma and managed to muster a smile. "I am very happy, Emma."

But she couldn't tell Cord the news. Not yet. Not until she found a way to persuade him the child belonged to him. She had to convince him of her love and fidelity-and that wasn't going to happen as long as they lived separate lives.

Tory turned to Emma. "I need your help. I need to pack my things."

"Are ye goin' on a trip, milady?"

Tory stood up from the bench. "Yes, Emma, a very short trip. We are moving into the master's suite."

Cord was tired when he got home. He'd had supper at the club, stayed a bit longer than he meant to, and now the wound in his chest was aching. Added to that, his earlier meeting with his banker hadn't gone as well as he had planned.

Tomorrow, he needed to make a two-day trip to Watford to check on what appeared to be a promising business opportunity. This time, he intended to take Victoria along.

Just thinking about her made his body clench with desire. He hadn't made love to her since they had shared the cabin aboard the Nightingale. In the past few days, he grew hard every time she walked into a room. It took sheer force of will to maintain his careful control, but he wanted to give her time, wanted her to be certain that he was the man she truly wanted.

As he stepped into the house, his gaze went in search of her. "Do you know where I might find Lady Brant?" he asked Timmons, trying to sound nonchalant.

Timmons collected his hat and gloves. "Aye, my lord. Her ladyship retired to her room just after supper."

The butler helped him out of his greatcoat and he started up the stairs, more eager to see her than he would have liked.

He was in love with Victoria. It was a feeling he couldn't seem to shake. Still, he didn't have to behave like a callow schoolboy.

She wasn't in her bedchamber. He asked one of the chambermaids, but the girl had no idea where his wife might have gone.

"She were here a bit earlier, milord. Must 'ave gone out for a breath of fresh air."

An instant of unease slipped through him as he thought of Julian Fox, but he shook it away. She was there. He simply had to find her.

Beginning to feel the chill of his damp clothes, he went into his bedchamber to change. He untied and pulled off his cravat, tossed off his coat and waistcoat, then pulled his shirt off over his head. He was about to summon his valet to help him remove his boots when he heard voices in his bathing room.

The door was closed. Wondering if one of the maids was working in there, he turned the k.n.o.b and walked in, then froze at the sight of Victoria sitting in his copper bathing tub.

"That will be all for tonight, Emma," she said. "Thank you."

The blond woman blushed and hurried out of the room, and Victoria smiled up at him. It seemed a bit tentative, a little uncertain, and Cord wondered at the cause.

She leaned back in the tub, her lithe body naked beneath a thin layer of frothy white bubbles. They parted whenever she moved, exposing the rounded tops of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and the small rose nipples at each crest. She had piled her chestnut hair up in soft curls, though a few glossy strands escaped at the side of her neck.

Her lips curved prettily in welcome, but a trace of uncertainty remained. "Good evening, my lord."

He was already beginning to throb uncomfortably inside his breeches. He had never seen a more fetching sight. Victoria rarely came into his rooms and she had never used his bathing tub before. Seeing her like this, he wondered why he hadn't invited her to share it long ago.

She moved a bit, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s peeking through the bubbles again, and desire hit him so hard his stomach muscles contracted.

"I was looking for you," he said, having to force out the words. "It didn't occur to me to look for you in here."

"Perhaps it will from now on."

One of his eyebrows went up. "Oh? And why is that?" He tried to concentrate, but she was lifting a slim, shapely leg, trailing a small square of linen over her wet, glistening skin.

His member swelled. He could feel each heartbeat throbbing in his groin. He wanted to touch her, to press his mouth against her moist flesh. He wanted to be inside her so bad his hands clenched into fists.

"From now on," she said, "I plan to use this tub whenever I wish. I intend that from this day forward we will share this room. I plan to sleep in your bed each night, to wake up with you in the morning."

It sounded like heaven. Still, it would only increase the power she held over him. "What if I refuse to allow it? This is my room, after all."

She stood up from the tub and soapy water sluiced down her body. "Think how handy it would be, my lord. Should you want me, I would be close at hand. I could satisfy your desires whenever you wished. I would be available for whatever wicked things you might-"

His control simply snapped. He dragged her wet body against him, and claimed her mouth in a ravaging kiss.

It had been so long. Too b.l.o.o.d.y long.

His arousal strengthened as she yielded, then kissed him back and slid her arms around his neck.

"Cord..." she whispered, and he could feel her trembling. She was trying to work the b.u.t.tons at the front of his breeches, but he caught her hand and brought it to his lips.

"Not yet. Not until I've tasted every wet, delicious inch of you." Lifting her out of the tub, he set her on her feet and kissed the side of her neck.